THIS IS A READ-ONLY ARCHIVE FROM THE SORABJI.COM MESSAGE BOARDS (1995-2016). |
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if you do anything outside of the air conditioning in costa rica, you'll have the wring out your underwear half way through. |
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hispanics in california include some of the hardest working, lowest paid, most honorable people i know. california is one of the top 10 economies in the world because of them. you can take your racist bullshit and shove it up your ass. |
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And that tube thing is waaaay out of line. |
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Stop making AZ look bad and shut up. |
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j. go to costa rica. go to the cantinas. have a cerveza with the locals, tell them what you think about central american immigrants to the u.s. and the fine latinas. then come back and tell us your story. I can't wait to hear it. and don't forget not to take the lord's name in vain, bible boy. |
Where's the dignity? |
i actually bought a package on the way home from work just to see what it would be like to throw hotdogs down a hallway. i think i need a longer hallway. i threw a couple down the stairs, too. that was a little more fun. then (after a few bong loads) we all started throwing hot dogs at the cat. this was the best. even the cat enjoyed it. and she wasn't even stoned. though the bird was. the consequences of having a highly efficient respirtory system. spelling is not my strong suit. when the bird is high, he sings more. he is a big fan of funk. and hip hop. it gives him a better basis to freak out over. 'maggotbrain' is one of his favorites. he jams like a maniac. he is a maniac. that's why he is my bird friend. |
Hey J, love thy neighbor as you love yourself, right? It shouldn't matter if your neighbor has official permission to be here or not, so lay off the wetback shit. Besides, people have migrated back and forth for untold millenia across that line on the map, why should they change their habits after a couple hundred years? and btw, karma isn't like something that comes back to you, it's more like chaos theory, as i understand it. |
he is a maniac. that's why he is my bird friend.>> me too. is this kaya? chip off the ol' block. |
one of my most consistant stoner buddy. fucker somehow never pitches for a sack, though. i keep intending to mic his cage one of these days. he lives in my studio, so it would not be difficult. then i can throw it down to mp3 and everyone can enjoy his improv. |
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I would call his song more akin to avant-garde jazz sax than classical symphony. i'll get him to lay down some tracks. i'll see if i can do that tonight. |
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'The nexus' my ass! Better hope it's not giving the poor thing brain damage. (Does he get the munchies afterwards?) |
watch your tongue, young missy. |
One semester break I came home from school in Ohio, drove 11 straight hours after being up 48 straight hours (finals) because there was a blizzard and my car was trying to die on me and I thought if I stopped or tried to turn around I would spend the rest of my life or the rest of my money (neither of which was unacceptable) trying to escape the seemingly infinite state (time/space continuum, whatever) of Pennsylvania where, mottos be damned, I had no friends. So I got home maybe 11:00 a.m. and mom's at work and little bro's sleeping it off and I go downstairs to the basement to sleep. All 8 million (6?) cats follow me down there and arrange themselves around the corpse. I awaken one hour later to screaming and, yes, weeping (ok, really just screaming). Seems the cats are not allowed downstairs (who knew)? Seems cats really like little tiny tender hand-nurtured cannabis plants. Seems 30 little plants died untimely cat-related deaths. Uh-oh. My punishment was that my little brother would not let me go back to sleep. Would. Not. I promised him money. I said he could drive my car (woohoo, chevette, don't know why he didn't go for it). Threats, cajolery, flattery, trickery, nothing worked. Then mom came home and the laughter started. I got to go to bed at around 11:00 p.m. that night. It wasn't a bird, but it's not only in California. |
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i don't intentially get him stoned. i would never blow hits in his direction. but what the hell am i going to do when the only clean air in the room is the first three inches off the carpet? |
Then again/maybe he enjoys the buzz. |
his cage is chained from the ceiling, and not easy to move. i'm not going to deprive him of anything. i figure he's in heaven. we had a long, stoner discussion about this one night. god has put him somewhere where he will be fed, watered and stoned regularly. and then god took away anything that would make him ever want anything more. |
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